


a forest wedding

by sumaru



Series: team oikage two seventeen [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Deer Lore, Everything Is Definitely Dubious, Gore, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 03:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/pseuds/sumaru
Summary: Tooru’s knees buckle. Tooru shivers despite himself. Tooru sinks slowly to the forest floor under Kageyama’s long gaze and the grass under his back is soft and smells green with summer dew.The stories about the white king stag in the forest had been true. This is also a fairy tale, maybe.





	a forest wedding

Kageyama’s touch is surprisingly gentle.  
  
Tooru’s knees buckle. Tooru shivers despite himself. Tooru sinks slowly to the forest floor under Kageyama’s long gaze and the grass under his back is soft and smells green with summer dew. He can taste the clear sweetness of it as it collects in pearls at the corner of his mouth, trickles slow and wet down the inside of his thighs, soft skin sticky with it, and even the cool morning air does nothing for the burning in Tooru’s bones, in the tense arch of his spine as Kageyama’s sure fingers go to tug at his hair. “Ah, ah,  _ah_ , still so clumsy,” Tooru breathes, but it’s a lie through grit teeth.   
  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kageyama says, and he’s so earnest, his eyes so bright and fierce and blue while his hands go still. He’s hovering like he’s waiting for permission even now and Tooru laughs desperately as the dew rolls on his tongue. Kageyama’s hands have never been anything less than reverent. The grass tickles at Tooru’s throat, and his head lolls as he swallows down the thought, lets it slide thick and terrible against the back of this throat as the wetness that fills his mouth, and he wants to spit.  _Stupid, **stupid**  Tobio_, Tooru thinks.  
  
“As if you could,” Tooru snaps instead. His skin prickles too hot and he wants to just writhe against the cool green grass to shake off the heat that’s pooling in the pit of his stomach, but Kageyama is sliding those terrible, reverent hands up his thighs, and there’s something running desperate under his skin now, his legs are too heavy under Kageyama’s shadow over him but it’s not enough, it’s not enough, he needs to feel all of that burning weight fall on him and hold him down and his knees part even more as his hands scratch long furrows into the dirt. “As if you  _ever_  could,” Tooru pants. The air is too cold in his lungs. The air is burning a hole in his chest right there in between the second and third rib. “Do it right, Tobio. Where’s my crown of flowers. Where’s my veil of lace.”  
  
Kageyama smells of clean sweat. His thumb brushes lightly against the pulse beating wildly under Tooru’s ear, and it feels almost chaste but for the way Tooru can also smell the strong salt of Kageyama’s blood running hot and insistent under the hardness of his leathers, at the way Kageyama’s thumb moves from his ear to press hard and unrelenting along the too sensitive arch of his throat. Tooru moans wetly in the grass. Tooru can’t control himself. Tooru can only smell all of that warm blood that’s spilling over with want and the taste of salt as Kageyama wraps iron barbed wire tightly around his wrists, lets his arms frame the heaving expanse of his naked chest like he’s nothing more than an offering after the long chase of Kageyama’s esteem.  
  
“But you already have a crown,” Kageyama says, and there’s something funny about the firm line of this mouth. His cheeks are flushed pink and it’s unbearable.   
  
“Stupid,  _stupid_  Tobio,” Tooru spits out for sure this time.  
  
The iron thorns cut cruelly into Tooru’s skin. Tooru’s skin is white and smooth as he strains against Kageyama’s warm hands pushing him deeper into the grass, an infuriated noise strangled in his mouth as he bites down on his lip while Kageyama slips four fingers into all that dripping mess of wet dew, and soft, streaked warm skin, and gently spreads him wide.  
  
It had been morning. Tooru had been drinking from the little river that spills over into the green grass of the clearing. The trees grow tall enough here to twine their dark branches into shadows and the morning sun cuts itself into pale lines that never stop weaving in and out between the birch and the cedar and the oak. All that pale yellow light catches Tooru as he looks up, and all that pale yellow light tangles in his hair like a forest crown, like his proud antlers in spring, and that’s when Kageyama had finally, finally seen him.  
  
The stories about the white king stag in the forest had been true. But so are the stories about the archer prince who never misses.  
  
“Did you think,” Tooru snarls as the blood spills over his mouth, trickles in a stark red line to mark the pale column of his throat like trap wire closing tight. His tongue is red and wet against his white teeth, but Kageyama still  _wants_ , and Kageyama thinks this is what the stories must mean by magic. “That I would just  _give_  it to you.”  
  
“No, Tooru-san,” Kageyama says and his voice is so pure, it’s so sure of itself and it’s so pure. “I know the only way is to win it from you.”   
  
Two fingers stroke along the elegant ivory curve of Tooru’s exposed rib and Tooru is panting heavily with it, each breath pulsing wet and red over Kageyama’s fingers as they work their way around the black-feathered shaft buried deep under Tooru’s heart. The pain is like something alive that sits on his chest and squeezes the air from his lungs, curls tight around his skin until he feels lightheaded with it; the sunlight trembles black and unreal behind his eyes. Kageyama pushes inside him even deeper, his touch burning even blacker and hotter than the way Tooru’s magic aches in the hollow under his heart, in between his soft thighs, and Tooru can’t help the choked moan that spills from his mouth as he feels himself tight and wet around Kageyama’s insistent fingers that curl inside him, right against the bone of his heart.  
  
Tooru’s eyes look soft and gentle in their haze. Tooru’s mouth is red and wet and looks good enough to eat. Tooru opens up for him and Kageyama feels alight with the promise of it but he realises something else now, too -- he’s afraid. No real sunlight reaches the forest floor. There is only the true light of Tooru’s crown and Tooru without his antlers and his glamours looks much too human. “I’m going to take it now,” Kageyama says quietly. For the first time in a long while, Kageyama looks hesitant.  
  
“What was your wish,” Tooru bites out weakly as he shudders in the afterward. He’s pinned under Kageyama’s hands and his thighs are streaked wet. The iron wire cuts deeper into him and his magic each time he moves and he’s hard from it, he’s leaking on the forest floor. Tooru is the sweetness of the dew, the salt that lines the earth, the copper that hangs in the air and that Kageyama swallows down completely.   
  
“You were,” Kageyama replies simply. His hands rest against the cage of Tooru’s ribs where something lovely rests inside. “You always were.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> jazz hands, when u can't tell the difference between ero-cannibalism and sex anymore


End file.
